Dreamer
by KatrinaLinden
Summary: The dreamer who dreams as another girl, will find four others to air her toil. The fighter, the thinker, the healer, the runner, five living under the distant eyes of ender. The dreamer has awoken, she is near. Monsters and beast, quake in fear. But which world is real, who can know? And what will she give up to find her goal?
1. Chapter 1

_The moon was a sliver of light, a narrow rectangle rising over the plains. Blood curdling growls erupted through the night as creatures of horror rose. A small girl, huddled underground, squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to sleep. Drowsiness swept over her, and she fell into slumber, her face relaxing._

_And then she woke up._

"Wake the hell up Trish!" A middle-aged woman poked her head through the doorframe, and Trish briefly considered slamming the door on her nose. Rolling her eyes, the woman stormed out of the room and down the corridor.

Trish squeezed her eyelids together, trying to concentrate on her dream. If she was quick enough, she could memorise the entire thing.

Yells from the other room alerted her it'd probably be a good idea to get up. Unable to stifle a pained moan, she rolled onto her stomach, feeling every one of her limbs aching. "If it weren't for my dreams, I wouldn't bother sleeping."

She said the words aloud without fear; no one bothered listening to her at home. Pushing herself up, she stumbled to the shower, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

**_ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος_**

"Are you ready yet!" the sound of her mother's demanding voice made Trish want to punch her homework, which she tossed into her bag. Zipping it up, she slammed open the door, stalking out before her mum could yell at her more.

Trish's long, fast strides had her at the main road in a minute. Ignoring the bus stop, she walked down the road, taking the fifteen minute walk to school.

The day, like most, passed like a blur. Trish sat in the back of every class, hiding her sketchbook under the table. Other students gave her a wide berth, sitting as far to the front as they could.

One girl, Darla, brushed past Trish as she hurried to her fifth class, her hand grabbing the corner of her small blue-covered sketchbook. Turning away, Trish gripped at the binding with all the strength in her hand, quickening her pace.

"Too bad!" Darla called back. "Just wanted to see who you like, so I can avoid them!"

Ignoring her, Trish ran into class, the first one there. Upon opening her sketchpad, she studied an old drawing. Grey pencil marked out the body of a strange creature, four squat legs poking out from the lower body, two pairs in sharp forty-five degree angles from the rest of the monster, who had vines etched around it's torso and head, a permanent dark scowl visible through the foliage. It stood beside a tree, it's right camouflaging into the low leaves. One front leg was a little closer than the other, and the creature's eye-sockets were fixated straight ahead. On the next page, a skeleton sheltered under the lip of a cave, it's shadowed body devoid of flesh. In one hand it held the recurve of a dark bow, the string already pulled back, an arrow aimed ahead. The skeleton's skull, though, was held that the face stared at the sky, where, judging by the lighting, the sun rose. Skin-free feet tiptoed just inside the shadows, and it was clear the monster shied away from the light.

Flicking to a clean page, Trish raised her pencil, and was about to begin when a chatting pair of guys walked in, glancing curiously at her work. Slamming the book shut, Trish resigned to staring out the window for the rest of the day.

**ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος**

Michael was awaiting Trish outside the school, goth music streaming out the open windows of the car. Throwing her bag into the boot, Trish queried, "how's the Deamon going?"

Michael grimaced, telling his sister all she needed to know.

Humming to the electronic music of Haunted, Trish looked out the window, watching as the world sped by. Michael grinned, expertly steering as he sped down the road, going far faster than the 60km/h speed limit.

"You're going to get caught one day," Trish murmured, knowing her brother was rolling his eyes.

"I have money," he muttered, the question of parental disappointment flying out the window.

"Ooookay," Michael said, stopping. A girl about Michael's age stood outside the house, her black hair running down her back.

"Hey Mike, Trish."

"Hi Ella," Trish called, already out of the car.

"There's pencils in my room, Dad's at work." Nodding at Ella, Trish grabbed her stuff and ran into the house.

Trish's cousin's life was completely different from hers. Ella had a loving father, a beautiful home, not to mention friends. Three pictures stood on a table at the back of the hall. One depicted Mike and Ella playing with a toddler version of Trish. another picture showed Ella and Uncle Jerome recently, feeding some giraffes. The last picture was old, framed by silver. It showed two women, almost identical with sandy blonde hair and fair skin. They were laughing at the picture taker, the background a green forest. Trish stared at the two of them, slowly picking out differences. A freckle there, a scab over here. Only by her beautiful wedding ring could Trish work out which was her Aunt, Dana. Her eyes trailed over to the other. _Mother._

Pulling herself away from the photos, Trish walked up the stairs, falling down onto Ella's bed. Thoughts twirled around her head. Judging by Mike's expression when she asked, Trish would probably be staying here for a while.

_Why can't we just stay here, mum? We're no use to you now. I wish you hadn't changed._ The thoughts and despair twirled around Trish's mind, dancing to Haunted, the chilling music searing through her mind as she shut her eyes.

**_ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος_**

SharaFaye opened her eyes, looking around. Surrounded by pure darkness, she reached upwards, letting her fingers trace the packed earth. Pressing a small area, which seemed less solid, she tensed her muscles. Shara hit the weak spot with all her strength and ran back as earth streamed into the cavern, followed by a ray of light. Scrambling towards it, the girl climbed out of the shelter, staring in delight at the sun, newly risen. The gurgling growls of a sun-burning zombie was heard in the distance, accompanied by the clanking of smoldering bones. Holding her glimmering sword at ready, Shara began to walk east. Thoughts of her nightmare drifted through her mind. She pitied Trish, her nightmare self. Bipolar mother- angrier than a disrespected enderman and sadder than a near dead wolf at once and loneliness, which Trish seemed to hate. Shara was silently grateful she had no one to miss, unlike Trish.

But Trish, and her world, wasn't real. The sight of Shara's house tossed the dream from her mind. Wood panels rose from the blanket of snow, smoke rising from the stone chimney.

Shara grinned, stepping inside. This was real. This _was_ her home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Apologies for no AN in the last chapter, I was a little to eager to publish it. I'll introduce the story here.**

**Dreamer started as a way for me to rant, and to let off my feelings. Trish arose from a mix of both my own feelings, and some very interesting books I've read. I also wanted to write a Fanfic that had Minecraft and the real world without being cliche, as in *pop* they're in Minecraft, no way back.**

**Anyway. I hope you enjoy the second chapter, and any others I manage to get out. **

The opening door swept a blast of warm air straight into Shara's face, who stepped forward gratefully, closing the wood behind her. Casting her sword and bow against a chest, she stepped onto the soft carpet. Ignoring everything else, she stumbled to the only other room in the house; a symmetrical room with windows lining the two walls facing outwards, white couches strewn with cushions under the glass.

The main part of the room -what drew Shara there- was a large fire pit. Flames licked at the iron bars surrounding the pit, smoke billowing up through the stone chimney. Seating herself on one of the softer cushions, Shara studied the fire, enjoying the warmth. She felt cold touching her feet through her boots and took them off, placing near the fire, to dry. Standing, barefoot, Shara walked out of the fire room, burrowing under the covers of a wide bed in the corner of the house's main room.

Unable to sleep, Shara rested silently for a few hours before rising. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, the last rays of sun burst weakly from the clouds, rinsing her home in light. The first monsters of the night were crawling from their lightless homes, growling and screeches echoing across the tundra. Ignoring the nighttime horrors, Shara headed to the second piece of furniture in the main room -a light wooden bench, roughly four meters long. Behind the bench, barely concealed by the wood, a staircase led down into the earth.

Dark wood made up the walls, ceiling and stairs, leading Shara down into a cramped room. Three passageways lead from three walls; the other held the stairs. Heading straight forward, she came into a room lined with chests, two anvils and a crafting table filling the room's middle. She reached into a chest at her head's height, standing on her toes to dig into the bottom. Her hands clutched around some soft wheat stalks, bundled with strips of red string. Pulling them out, she expertly placed three in a row on the crafting table, holding up a warm loaf of bread seconds later. This she took, as long as some potatoes that had been laying in a smoldering heap of coals inside a furnace; using a rather badly made set of iron tongs to pull them out.

Clutching her meal, she climbed back to the surface, resting on the carpeted floor as she ate.

Hours later, she was torn from the midst of a novel by a fearful cry. Tossing the book aside, which was written in her own handwriting -she would make up fantastic stories and forget them almost instantly- she grabbed her sword from beside the door and peered from the window.

A being, almost undoubtedly human, climbed from a familiarly shaped creeper hole. A large bruise covered his left eye and his sword, shining iron, was dented badly. He wore no armor and limped, occasionally clutching the injured leg and grimacing. Wiping his deep brown hair from his eyes, he stared at the house, catching Shara's eyes.

"Don't I get to come in?"

Shara stared at him, amazed by the tones of her voice. The only words she had ever heard had been spoken by herself, or were in her dreams. Noting the lowering moon and distant monsters she nodded, opening the door.

"There's spare wool in the basement. I'll craft you a bed, one second." The stranger nodded tiredly, glancing around the small house.

When Shara returned with a minimised bed, she found the stranger fast asleep on her own, sword thrown on the ground. Understanding his exhaustion, she laid the bed on the ground and fell onto it.

**_ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος_**

Trish woke where she had fallen asleep, curled up on Ella's bed. Ella herself slept on the floor, over a inflatable mattress that was meant for Trish. Guilty, she sneaked around her cousin, taking a quick look at Ella's watch, which said 6:34 am. It was early, but she didn't want to sleep. Dressed in her frayed school uniform, Trish sought her notebook.

Her notebook had been a gift from her mother a few years ago, when she was in one of her happier moods. It was a simple A5 book encased in light blue plastic. Despite its age, it was in good shape, Trish having never let it out of her sight. The pages were stuffed full of scenes of Minecraft, though with a real world twists; ground wasn't blocky, ores were scattered irregularly across stone, monsters stood with details not seen in the game. Trish drew from Shara's eyes, which was why, until now, no human had been drawn inside the covers.

She began to sketch in the dim light, using a thin pencil taken from Ella's bedside. She remembered his features clearly; the short, dark brown hair, pale, slightly freckled skin, brown eyes darker than his hair.

Without any good pencils, Trish did not bother to colour the picture, but with shading you could almost guess the colours in the picture -a view of him through the window of Shara's fire-room, staring in surprise at the spruce house, a creeper a step behind.

"Morning Trish!" Ella cried, knowing not to try and look over her shoulder.

"Hi," she replied, slowly closing the book. "What time is it?"

"It's nearly seven-thirty." Trish blinked in surprise. She had been drawing for about an hour.

"Get ready for school," Ella commanded, walking off as she tied her hair.

**_ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος_**

Briefly, Trish wondered why she even bothered to go to school. Yet what else would she do? Go hang out with her friends?

The joke brought a sarcastic smile to Trish's lips, which faded quickly, leaving behind loneliness. Grabbing her notebook, she reached for a colored pencil, planning to colour in her latest sketch.

"Nice picture." A startlingly familiar voice came from near her. She looked up to see the familiar face -dark hair and eyes with pale skin, tall and slightly stern. Blinking, she half looked at the open notebook, which, thankfully, wasn't the one of him, but a mine illuminated by lava, turquoise specks dotting faraway stone.

"T-thanks," she replied, looking down and blushing. Thoughts ran though her mind and she was barely able to hear as he introduced himself as Liam.

How was it possible that the first time she met Liam was in a dream? She had never seen him; her visual memory was too good to forget such a thing. Besides, why would she dream of a complete stranger when she had only ever dreamed as Shara, alone. A doomed thought entered her mind, that Shara's world was real. That hers was not.

_How can it not be real!_ Memories, both good and bad, flooded through her. How could all this be made up? Ignoring her classmates and the teacher, yelling fro silence, Trish pushed past Liam and half ran out the door, for the first time ever, forgetting her notebook. She ran down the corridor, not knowing where she fled, only knowing she had to.

"Trish!" Michael yelled at her from the year twelve's area, staring at his sister in confusion.

"_Wake up! Goddam it! Wake up!"_

Liam yelled at Trish, but he was meters away, staring blankly at her, his mouth closed. The sound of static filled her ears as she stumbled, her eyesight mixing together into a blur as a harmonious voice sang into her ears.

_The dreamer who dreams as another girl, _

_Will find four others to air her toil. _

_The fighter, the thinker, the healer, the runner, _

_Five living under the distant eyes of ender. _

_The dreamer has awoken, she is near. _

_Monsters and beast, quake in fear. _

_But which world is real, how can we know? _

_And what will she give up to find her goal?_

**I hope you like my poem, it SUCKS. A little twist, and further showing the plot. I also want to point out that most of my reviews (only three! T_T) stated 'our' world as reality, or the real world. How do you know? :DDDD (i'm evil.)**

**Goodbye!**

**Oh! wait! the linebreak is Dreamer in greek, repeated seven times. Does the number seven have a meaning? MAAAAAYBE.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter has been a long time in the making, so apologies for that. I kinda got stuck, then events caused me to nearly forget about this and other stories. I always seem to end up apologising for delays. It says something about how good I am with deadlines, I suppose.**

"Wake up!" Shara obeyed, flicking her eyes open to see a glimpse of hungry flames licking across the ceiling, tongues of red and orange eating into the wood. The stranger (Liam?) tugged at her arm, pulling her towards the door. Realising the danger, she dashed to the weapons by the door and fled with them in her hands.

"What the hell did you do?" she growled, staring at her companion.

He opened his mouth, formulating a reply, when the subtle hissing of a creeper began to swell in her ears. Shara dived forward, rolling into a crouch where she landed. She expected him to do the same, but instead a blast shook the top layer of snow, and she caught sight of his body flying through the air in her peripheral vision. "Liam!" She screamed, only half thinking as she ran towards the first human she had ever seen. He groaned, sore but unscathed. The creeper had acted too early, therefore he was safe.

"How do you know my name?"

Shara blinked, turning cold. Liam was a name she had only heard as Trish, in her dreams. Used by a boy who resided in her dreams.

"I asked first. Why was my house set on fire?" She responded, attempting to reconstruct her thoughts.

"A head with three rotating sticks as a body came and lit on fire, throwing the flames at me and hitting the house. I shot it and woke you up. Your turn." He said this swiftly, as though such a thing happened daily.

"Blazes have never come out of the Nether," Shara mused.

"Stop avoiding my question." Liam smirked, and a ball of fear festered in Shara's heart. She stared at the ground, her face burning despite the coldness of the biome at night. Obviously Liam would view her as insane if she was to tell him. Then she realised the foolishness of such a thing. Trish would never fear ridicule for what she believed in -she let nothing touch her.

The thought of Trish brought to memory that sweet voice that sung in her ears and burnt into her mind.

_...Will find four others to air her toil._

_The fighter, the thinker, the healer, the runner..._

Was Liam one of the four? Which one? _Certainly not the fighter,_ Shara decided, remembering his slow reaction to the Creeper, smiling slightly.

"So, you going to answer me?"

Staring at the ground, Shara began to explain of her dreams that had occurred since she had spawned, fifteen years ago. How Trish, her dream self, thought she dreamed of Shara. She told him of how Trish's struggles had multiplied when she became twelve, and explained in length what had happened whilst she slept before.

"Y-you found out my name in a _dream?_" Liam looked at her, hesitant and confused.

"Yes," she muttered, staring at the ground.

_"Trish? Wake up."_

"She fainted..." Shara's voice trailed off.

"What? Can you hear something?"

Shara stared at him, assessing his expression. It was almost accepting; he believed her, at least partly.

"They're calling for Trish to wake up. I think she's half conscious."

"Which means you have to be unconscious."

At his words Shara realised how utterly exhausted she was, and blinked as she struggled to remain awake.

"Can you make it to that cave?" Liam, understanding what had happened, was indicating a sheltered and lit-up hole in the mountain that had always sat behind Shara's house, though she had never used it, as it was empty of ores and she had another mine entrance.

"Think so," she mumbled, and Liam helped her stand and walk to the cave, already half asleep. Once sheltered from the cold wind and possible mobs, she closed her eyes.

**_ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος ονειροπόλος_**

"Shara, wake up!"

_Shara?_ Trish opened her eyes, staring at Liam as he watched her anxiously.

"You're awake! Michael helped her up, his face expressionless, yet Trish knew he was worried.

"I don't know what happened..." she trailed off, dreading the reply. From what she _did_ remember, she had run away from Liam, then fallen asleep to wake as Shara inside her burning house.

_Shara?_ "You ran from your classroom, then fainted." Michael gave her a piercing look, and Trish stared at the ground in despair. Such eccentric behavior was somewhat familiar to the two siblings, but never had it come from her.

"B-bullies. They said they'd beat me, and I'm more than sure they meant it." Michael nodded in silence. Trish knew some brothers would already be attacking those that bullied her, but Michael knew there were things a whole lot worse than physical pain.

Having come up with a sane explanation, Trish turned to Liam. "Why'd you call me Shara?"

Liam blushed crimson, staring at her. "I- I don't know. It just seems familiar with you..." He stopped suddenly, staring at the floor.

"Trish! You're awake!" Ella burst into the school sick bay, two schoolbags resting on her shoulders.

"Yeah- um, why do you have my bag?" Trish quite firmly remembered _locking_ her bag in her locker.

Ella responded by throwing Trish's keys at her, smirking superiorly. "You've been out for a good hour. We've permission to get out of this dump."

Liam muttered something about homework and left. Michael helped Trish up and the three of them walked out of the school. Michael's car was parked in the small carpark outside. He was in his final school year and took any opportunity he could get to show off the fact he had a license.

Trish looked at the car sadly. Her house was only a short walk from her school. The need to drive simply pressed onto her the fact that her mother wasn't at home.

Her mother had been cycling through emotions for three years. She'd start out happy; giving Michael and Trish anything they wished, cleaning and cooking and behaving like the happiest person on Earth. Slowly that wore off, until eventually she was so angry and depressed her brother-in-law worried for her. Sometimes she tried to end it all...

That was what terrified Trish so immensely. She was sick and tired of her mother's moods, but she couldn't bear to even think of a life without her.

**A little sad and dark, I hope you guys don't mind. If you see any mistakes in grammar or plot (as in, whether it makes sense) please tell me.**


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